


Once Upon a Midnight Dreary

by we_are_all_irrelivant



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, He Will Never Be Cis In Any Of My Fics . thank u, M/M, Riding, Sexy vampire, Trans Kurapika, Trans Sex, Trans Vampires, Vaginal Sex, Vampire Sex, Vampires, ahh vampire pussy, sexy vampires, vampire sex!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-07 00:19:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19073647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_all_irrelivant/pseuds/we_are_all_irrelivant
Summary: Leorio finds himself stuck on abandoned road, with a broken down car, in the middle of downpour, in the dead of the night. In his desperation, he gets to walking and happens upon a mysteriously well-kept castle in the middle of the woods, a castle home to an equally mysterious, breathtakingly beautiful man. What happens next will shock you.





	Once Upon a Midnight Dreary

**Author's Note:**

> leopika.. vampires.. but make it sexy..
> 
> thank U ness (@honeyfloat on twitter) fr beta-ing this for me !!! i love n cherish U!!!!!

Of all the nights, of all the deserted, barely serviceable back roads winding through a nameless woods, of all the skies to stand beneath, of all the hours of the day, this was the one that Leorio’s engine chose as the time to go belly up. It was a miracle, he thought, that he had even seen the smoke billowing from under the hood of his car with all the fog swirling through his struggling headlights. He was hardly surprised. The conference he’d had to attend had been a few dozen miles too far for the car he’d barely managed to scrape up enough to buy, back when he turned 18 (he was in sore need of an upgrade, but even on a hunter’s salary his tuition ate up enough of his funds that he survived mostly on buttered pasta and little else), but the alternative—an airship or train ticket, on top of the cost of the hotel and a 3-day attendee badge—was a bit too eye-watering for his already stringent budget. So he’d packed his bags into his old junker of a vehicle, ignored the rattling it made when he pushed the speed past 70, and prayed to whatever gods he could think of that he’d make it back in one piece. He had almost made it. Maybe he hadn’t prayed hard enough.

Leorio pulled over. His finger found the button for his hazard lights out of habit, pressing it numbly. He gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles, watched the smoke curl up into the pitch black sky, dancing through the rolling fog, twisting and curling almost beautifully. He racked his brain for what he remembered about car maintenance. If the smoke was tinted blue, that meant it was some kind of leak… right? He narrowed his eyes, trying to discern a color in the flickering yellow light of his headlights. Grey? Off-white? That meant the engine had overheated, didn’t it? He thought he remembered a mechanic telling him he’d needed to replace his coolant soon. Yes. He also remembered putting it off for his next paycheck.

Leorio sighed tightly, rubbing his hands down his face wearily. His eyes caught sight of the clock face next to the fuel gauge. 12:27am. He had been hoping he might get home at least before one. He sucked in a slow, deep breath and got out of the car, fumbling for the button to pop the hood beneath the steering column. The moment his fingers found and pressed it, the hood shifting with a dull click and belching out a rippling plume of smoke, a low drum of thunder sounded across the sky. Leorio froze. Had rain been in the forecast? He cut his gaze to his windshield. Dry for now. If he was quick, he could get everything going again—or at least figure out if he needed a tow truck—before the storm caught up to him. As he propped open the hood and shined his phone’s flashlight over the engine block, his hopes were soon dashed. To him, it was all little more than a nest of twisting pipes and metal blocks, all the same dark, oil streaked gray, all wafting away silvery wisps of steam (or was it smoke?) into the cool night air. He could tell from the sweat beading on his brow that it was still too hot to touch. His heart sunk. Out of the corner of his eye, a white flash of lightning.

He felt a single raindrop fall onto his head, right on the crown of his scalp. A moment later, another landed on the slope of his cheekbone, heavy and wet and thick. Leorio closed his eyes. The haphazard splat of of rain on pavement turned into low murmur, then a steady drumming, then a thrumming roar, howling hollow and metallic as it struck the shell of his car. Leorio groaned, sound swallowed by the noise of the storm, leaning forward to press his forehead against his hand holding the hood of the car. A howling crack of thunder startled him from his lament. He rushed back into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind him. Water dripped from the drooping ends of his hair. He started at the rain pelting the windshield. He screwed his eyes shut again.

“Jesus Christ…” Leorio muttered, pressing his wet face into his hands. He sat, limbs rigid and angry, listening to the movement of the storm. The wind was strong enough to push against the broad side of car, rocking it gently. The gentle _plink_ of small, hard hailstones bouncing off the car and the road soon joined the symphony. Between his fingers, Leorio watched the clock march through half past midnight, almost reaching quarter ‘til one before he finally shifted, sagging back in the cracked vinyl seat. What could he do? Spend the night in the car? But with the road he was on—so removed that his phone had given up trying to connect to a cell tower and displayed _No Service_ as soon as he unlocked it—he knew the odds of anyone coming by and seeing him, not to mention being able _and_ willing to help, were near impossible. But what else was there? Fixing the car was out of the question. Was walking for help feasible? Where would he even go? He remembered passing a handful of homes in areas like this in his hours on the road, people who evidently wished to be as far from civilized society as possible. When had he last passed one? At least half an hour ago, he thought, when he’d first entered the woods. There was no telling when or if he’d come across another.

 _But_ , he thought, _at least I’d only be stuck out here for a few hours, instead of a few days, or more_.

Leorio sat back in his seat, taking off his sunglasses and rubbing wearily at the bridge of his nose. He glanced out the window. Beyond the car’s halo of light, the black woods seemed to stretch forever, thin, impossibly tall trunks standing silhouetted ebony against the ashen sky. His eyes could sense the waving of their branches in the wind, wind and rain ripping through the leaves and bending the canopies back. It was weather the storm on his bare body and hope to find someone friendly enough to give him a warm, dry place to sleep, or spend the night tucked into this death trap of a vehicle.

Leorio took off his jacket, so soaked through with water that it clung to his arms and his hands. He pulled the key from the ignition, pushed open the door, and was off, jacket held pathetically over his head as he ventured into the deluge. After a few minutes, it was sagging so much under the weight of the water that it was plastered to his head and back, serving only as another layer of cold, slimy fabric to deaden the bearing of the raindrops on his skin. The rain seemed to leech the heat from him and the air around him like a magnet, and soon he was trembling, chilled through to the bone. Not only had the gods not heard him, they seemed to be making a game out of his suffering.

Leorio marched aimlessly for what seemed an eternity, too listless and numb to pull his phone out to check the time. It had to have been destroyed in his pocket anyhow, what with how drenched his clothing was. Water ran down his face in twisting rivulets, and his feet squelched in his shoes with each step, water rushing between his toes and flowing out of the eyelets. His arms, too tired to hold up the useless mess of fabric, had come to wrap futilely around his body for some semblance of warmth, one hand still gripping his jacket with fingers too cold to relax. His eyes scanned the dark horizon dully, sliding over tree after monotonous tree, searching blindly for something to indicate that someone, _anyone_ , was out here, or had ever been out here. In the distance, peeking out over the rise of a hill, he saw the triangular shape of a spire.

Leorio froze. Rain drummed steadily on his head. He blinked and swept a stream of water from his eyes. Sure enough, it was a soaring stone spire, reaching into the sky. A flash of lightning lit it up, grey mildewy stone tiles contrasting with the leaves and forest surrounding it. His eyes flit forward to the road before him. There was a fork to the left, a thin paved driveway that led down the slope of the land and wound into the woods. Leorio weighed his options. No mailbox near the main road, but then, houses this remote hardly ever had mailboxes. But how many houses nowadays had _spires_? Was it an old mansion? Was it even still inhabited? It would be just his luck to run across a place like that on a night like this, only to find the roof caved in and the whole place soaked through with rain and mold. But then, even if it was empty, if the roof were at least intact it would be a dry place to spend the night. That was more than walking aimlessly along a deserted road could get him. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. He stepped onto the driveway.

As Leorio walked, the steadily thickening canopy of the surrounding forest lightened the rain falling on him, from heavy thudding drops that slapped against his skin and rattled his skull with each impact to a thin soaking rain that drove the weather’s chill down to his very core. Water flowed in wide rills down the slope of the driveway, running over his shoes and seeping in through the soles. He spat and cursed in his mind as he trudged, following bend after bend after accursed bend, until finally the ground leveled and the forest thinned into neat, manicured rows of trees lining the road, and the home Leorio had supposed to find stood before him. Leorio’s eyes widened.

It was not quite the solitary ranch home Leorio had expected. Nor was it the mansion he had formed in his mind when he saw the driveway. It was closer, if anything, to a castle, with sprawling stone spires matching the one he had glimpsed from the road, intricate arches and tracery protecting stained glass windows, and grand, mahogany doors, clasped shut with wide metal rivets and bands. Another snap of lightning illuminated it in blinding white light, throwing dramatic shadows into the crevices of the stone facade. It soared into the air, nearly dwarfing the trees surrounding it. Leorio swallowed. His feet seemed to carry him involuntarily across the courtyard, past and through muddy puddles that were steadily swelling into lakes. His body, driven by a sort of carnal desire for dryness, ignored the bewildered rationale of his mind. It wasn’t until he found himself at the door (thankfully shielded from the rain a bit by a thin jutting lip of stone), lifting the heavy steel knocker and rapping it against the door that he blushed, feeling foolish. How old did this place have to be? What were the odds there was anyone inside? What were the odds anyone had been inside at all in the past 200 years?

Leorio pressed his lips together, tongue darting out to lap at a stream of water running over his lip. He supposed there was no harm in trying. His hands squeezed the fabric of his shirt as he waited, water gushing between his fingers. After a few minutes, teeth chattering, he sighed.

“What was I thinking?” he muttered to himself. He shifted, gearing himself up to go back into the downpour when he heard a creak. His heart leapt in his chest. His arms tightened around his chest, heart beating at double time as he watched the door shift and swing slowly open.

A man stood at the threshold. Leorio’s chest tightened. He was slight, lithe and graceful like a dancer. His face was smooth and pale and beautiful, framed by blond hair the color of honey, guarded as he took in the stranger before him. His eyes were a piercing steely gray that seemed to shine from within, even in the dark of the evening. His lips were meticulously painted a deep rich red. They were pressed into a tight, almost unfriendly line. He wore a loose white shirt that hung from his body like gossamer fabric, undone in a deep V, showing the slope of his chest. A sort of silver choker was clasped around his throat, a piercing red brooch resting against the dip of his collar. Leorio reddened.

The man’s gaze tightened almost imperceptibly the first second that he saw Leorio. As his eyes traveled up him, taking in what felt like every inch of his body, his face seemed to soften, eyes seeming to brighten and warm.

“Yes?” His voice was clear and high, almost beautiful in quality.

Leorio blinked. He cut his eyes away from him for a moment, heart beating like a hummingbird in his chest. “Um.” His tongue felt like cotton in his mouth. “My car broke down a little ways down the road. I was…” His cheeks reddened despite the air’s chill. “I was looking for help.”

The man’s eyes bore into his for a single electric moment. His gaze lowered, examining him again, excruciatingly slowly. His face softened further and he smiled gently.

“You poor thing,” he said slowly, voice changing into a smooth purr. His hand came to rest on the doorframe, fingers arched against the stone. His nails were long and shiny and filed to an eye watering point, painted the same blood red as his lips. Delicate silver rings adorned each of his slender fingers, connected by whisper thin, thread-like chains to a thicker chain around his wrist. He cocked his head gently to the side. A single ruby earring dangled from his ear, catching the dusty light of the moon. “You’re shivering. Come, it’s warm inside. You can stay here until the morning.”

Leorio sagged in relief, smiling wearily as the man stepped aside. “Thank you. So much. I promise not to overstay my welcome.”

“It’s quite alright,” the man said, pulling the door shut with a resonant thud. “Who would I be to leave an innocent person in a storm like this?” Leorio felt his eyes on him as he walked around him. “Come. Warm up in the drawing room for a moment and regain your strength. I’ve started a fire there.”

Leorio followed. He looked around as he did, head leaned back to look at the soaring, shadowed ceilings and the stone arches that supported them. On the walls hung rows of tapestries, faded by age but clearly once magnificent works of art. Intricately twisting silver fixtures held lights along the walls at regular intervals. It was breathtaking. Leorio swallowed, hugging his arms around himself tighter.

The man took him into a large, well-furnished room. The walls were painted a rich scarlet, with winding gold accents along the ceiling and baseboards. It was full of antiquated, but beautiful, furniture, swirling designs and flowers carved into the expensive wood and sewn into the plush cushions. In the fireplace, framed by carved marble, a fire roared and belched, audibly crackling even from the door. It had warmed the room enough already to make his chilled cheeks and numb fingers tingle. The man stopped near a short couch across from the hearth and gestured gently for him to sit. Leorio sat, sagging into the cushions with a rush of fatigue he hadn’t known was there. He closed his eyes, sighing happily as the heat of the fire wafted across his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man’s face shift as he smiled.

“It would do you some good to get out of those wet clothes. I’ll see if I can’t find anything that might fit you.”

Leorio nodded, holding his stiff hands out towards the fire as the man departed. His clothes were starting to dry somewhat, clinging to his skin and seeming to sap every possible bit of heat from his flesh.  He leaned towards the fire, tugging at his shirt where it stuck to his chest, pulling it away from his skin with a wet squelch. His gaze shifted curiously around the room, taking in the gilded crown molding and the exquisite furniture. He wondered how much it had all cost. He wondered how it was all so well preserved, being so old that Leorio could tell nearly all of the details of the cushions were hand-embroidered. He thought that upkeep of period pieces like these usually cost tens, if not hundreds of thousands of Jenny, and were reserved for museums and historical sites that forbid their use by anyone at all. Was Leorio destroying centuries-old art, sitting so casually on it in his soaked clothing?

Leorio’s cheeks reddened. He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, and then stood. He looked down at himself for a moment and stepped out of his shoes and socks, placing them on the stone hearth to dry by the fire. He hugged his arms around himself, pacing slowly and craning his neck to follow around the room the intricate molding near the ceiling. When he looked back down, the man was standing near the couch, holding a plush towel and a folded outfit.

“Oh! Thank you,” Leorio said graciously, stepping over to take the things from him. The man smiled again, eyes trained on his face. His irises seemed to have changed, glowing a sort of warm pink, like the blush of a cheek in winter.

“Go ahead. Warm up near the fire. I’ll prepare something for you to eat. You must be hungry,” the man said smoothly. His voice sounded like cool silk sliding over skin.

“You don’t have to do all that,” Leorio said sheepishly. “I’m ok, really.”

The man waved his hand gracefully. “No, no, it’s quite alright. I insist.” He cocked his head gently to the side, hand coming to rest against his cheek. “I don’t often have guests. Make yourself at home.”

Leorio watched him leave, a warm blush dusted on his cheeks. There was something about the man, something that made him dizzy each time he looked at him. As he changed, he thought about him, the graceful way he held himself, the low purr of his voice, the sharp light in his eyes. He unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off his arms, laying it out on the hearth before patting at his damp skin with the towel. His mouth, the curve of his lips, the rich color of his makeup. It was simply _seductive_. His blood flowed hotly around his body every time he spoke, hanging onto every word, drinking in every twist of his mouth like it was gospel.

Leorio shrugged on the shirt the man had brought him. It was softer and thinner than his own, with delicate, intricate ruffles along the buttons, and the sleeves billowed strangely near the elbows, but it fit. His hands, they seemed to float through the air when he moved them, jewelry flashing in the light, glossy nails shining. He felt hypnotized every time he brought his hands to his face, resting his fingers delicately against his cheek.

Leorio bent to pull off his pants. As he toweled off his legs, he thought of the way the man tipped his head to the side: gently, slowly, like a curious animal, eyes fixed on Leorio in such a way that it felt he was staring into the very depths off him, hair shifting just enough to give him a single glisten of the ruby earring dangling from his ear.

He inhaled slowly, pulling on the man’s cotton pants. There was also something about the man that made the hair along the back of his neck bristle in anticipation. An imperceptible air of danger. Something about the way he moved and blinked, perhaps, reminiscent of a panther. Maybe it was just his own sleep deprived paranoia, or maybe his most primal instincts were right. Either way, he found he couldn’t ignore the man’s beauty, or the heat he sent rushing to the pit of his belly. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t _want_ to.

Leorio sank back into the couch, finally dry enough to appreciate the warmth of the fire. He closed his eyes, running a hand through his drying hair. The man would be back soon. What then? Try to make conversation? Eventually part ways for the night and try to ignore the heat steadily growing between his legs? In the morning, would he leave on his own or would the man insist on seeing him off? And if his car still wouldn’t work, especially after a night spent in a monsoon? Leorio rubbed his hands down his face, groaning to quiet his overthinking. He encounters one beautiful stranger and suddenly he’s a mess.

He heard the man’s footsteps on the stone floor and perked up, pressing his legs together and readjusting the fabric over his crotch. The man was carrying a plate with a small sandwich and a steaming teacup. Leorio accepted them with a small smile. He set the teacup on the table beside the couch and took a hearty bite out of the sandwich, stomach rumbling powerfully as he did. He hummed, closing his eyes as he chewed. When he opened them, he found the man watching him, perched on an armchair to the right of the fireplace. Leorio’s cheeks reddened.

“S— Sorry,” he said, swallowing thickly. “I was hungrier than I realized. Thank you again for your hospitality, really.”

The man smiled, eyes crinkling in the corner. His hands were clasped together in his lap, one of his pointer fingers tapping lightly against one of his rings. “It’s no problem, I assure you.”

Leorio took another bite of his sandwich. “I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I hadn’t found you.”

“Yes… I don’t often encounter… travelers. What was it that brought you so deep into the woods?”

“A medical conference. I’m—” Leorio swallowed another mouthful. “I’m finishing up medical school. A few of my professors were speaking at the event, and I thought it was close enough to drive—save myself a little money on an airship ticket—so why not go and see them?” Leorio took a sip of his tea. “I live about three hours south of where it was held. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been a very eventful. But, well… My car isn’t exactly in top condition.”

The man nodded slowly. “I see.”

Leorio swallowed the rest of his sandwich. “I didn’t expect to find a place like this out here. It’s… beautiful. How did you come to live here?”

The man lifted his hand, waving it gently. “Oh, it’s been in my family for longer than I care to admit. Things happened; I simply happened to be the one to presently inhabit it. That’s all.”

“You live here all by yourself?” Leorio asked.

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely? Being in such a big place _and_ being so far from anyone else?”

The man rested his hand against his cheek. His mouth twisted into a delicate pout, and his eyes seemed to flicker a sort of rusty red. He looked past Leorio. “It does, yes,” he said slowly. His gaze found Leorio’s face, and he softened. “I suppose that’s part of why I was so eager to host you.”

Leorio smiled. “Makes sense. I think I’m too much of a people person, but if peace and quiet’s what you like best, I bet it’d be really nice.”

The man smiled as well, corners of his red lips curling gently, eyes swirling a soft dusty pink. The crackling of the fire filled the air between them. The man tipped his head to the side again, fingernails drumming against his cheek. Leorio’s cheeks warmed. His eyes flitted down, to the pale skin of his chest, the rising slope of his breasts hidden in the shadows of his shirt. Even with how shapeless his shirt was, Leorio could tell his figure was slender and strong. He wore tight black pants—leather, it looked like, from the way the light shone off of them—that hugged his crossed legs beautifully, accentuating the curve of his hip and the powerful line of his thigh. When Leorio looked back at his face, his eyes were somehow redder, like watered down blood. His lips had relaxed into an absentminded, curious purse.

“What did…” Leorio swallowed thickly. “What did you say your name was?”

“Kurapika,” the man said smoothly. He drummed his fingers against his cheek, smiling demurely. “And yours?”

Leorio’s cheeks reddened. “Leorio… That’s a, um… nice name. Unique.”

Kurapika smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. His eyes seemed to swirl redder still.

Leorio stared, almost dumbfounded. He blinked. “Um. I don’t want to keep you up all night.”

Kurapika seemed to blink back to reality as well. “Yes. Yes, I have a guest room upstairs. You can spend the night there.”

“Oh! You don’t have to do all that. I can sleep in here.”

“I insist. Who would I be to have a guest sleep in a drawing room when there’s a perfectly good room upstairs?”

Leorio closed his stammering mouth, adopting a sort of apologetic, thankful look. Kurapika rose gracefully, extending a single hand to beckon him. “Come.”

Leorio followed him obediently, up a wide winding staircase to a hallway decorated with the same silver light fixtures as in the foyer. Yellowed, dusty oil paintings hung on the walls. The space was just as vast as the rest of the castle, the ceilings vaulted so high Leorio couldn’t see where the rafters met. The heat from downstairs had not yet risen; there was a chill to the air. He brought his arms around himself.

Kurapika stopped in front of an ornately carved mahogany door. He turned, looking up at Leorio. His eyes had changed color once again, now the same blazing red as the stone around his neck. Leorio couldn’t bring himself to care. He was close enough now that he could see the gentle rise of his chest as he breathed, the delicate curve of his luscious eyelashes. He could see the line of Kurapika’s lipstick, smudged slightly at the corner of his mouth. Despite how much he towered over him, enough that Kurapika had to look up at him, he felt small before him. In his chest, his heart fluttered like a trapped bird.

“Doesn’t it… get lonely out here by yourself?” Leorio murmured, voice hushed, words rushing unresisted from his mouth.

Kurapika inhaled slowly. “It does.”

Leorio wasn’t sure who moved first. At the same instant he felt himself bending to kiss him, he swore he saw Kurapika surging upward to wrap his arms around his neck. In the back of his mind, he decided it didn’t matter. All that mattered now were Kurapika’s lips, smooth and soft and sweet, sliding hungrily against his mouth. They were cool, he noticed in the back of his mind, like stones in a river. He felt Kurapika’s hands in his hair, gripping it with more strength than Leorio had expected him to have, nails scratching at his scalp. He wrapped his arms around Kurapika’s slender body, holding him desperately, biting back the urge to moan into his mouth.

“ _God_ ,” Kurapika breathed, hands shifting to grasp either side of Leorio’s face as he pulled away, breath huffing over his face. He pressed his mouth to his again, groaning against his lips.

Leorio felt dizzy. He held Kurapika tighter, head swimming, heart galloping in his chest. He stepped to the side, throwing an arm out to grab for the door’s handle. They broke apart as he pushed the door open, stumbling into the room. Before Leorio could regain his bearings, Kurapika was pressed against him again, a hand on the back of his neck to bring their lips together again. Leorio’s arms found their way around Kurapika’s waist again, and then he was lifting him, holding him flush against his chest, walking backwards towards the bed. Kurapika gasped, clinging to his neck tightly. Leorio sat heavily on the bed, sinking into the plush mattress. He felt Kurapika surge forward, pushing him flat on the bed and straddling him easily. Leorio scarcely managed a gasping breath before Kurapika was kissing him again, one hand clutching his jaw firmly, nails digging into his skin. He felt overwhelmed; half formed thoughts swam through the muddy haze of his mind and his skin seemed to tingle everywhere Kurapika touched him. Something about it bypassed the fear he knew he should have felt. He loved it. He wanted more.

He felt a prod against the crease of his lips and then Kurapika’s tongue was rushing into his mouth, exploring hungrily like a starved beast, drinking in the helpless groan it pulled from Leorio’s throat. Leorio’s hands grasped wildly, tangling in Kurapika’s hair, pressing their mouths together harder as he searched for more. Leorio felt a sharp snap of pain on his lower lip, and then Kurapika’s tongue swirling over the wound. The other man almost seemed to purr, hands holding his jaw tightly, his mouth sealing around his lip as he lapped up the blood Leorio knew he had drawn. Kurapika pulled back to sit up, a thin string of pink saliva connecting their mouths for a moment. Kurapika’s meticulously applied lipstick was now smudged across his mouth and his cheek. His hair was ruffled and mused, framing his flushed cheeks. His shirt had fallen off of one shoulder, exposing the beautiful curve of his collarbone. Most striking of all were his eyes. They were the color of fresh blood seeping from a wound, and his irises seemed to swirl and pulse with a light that drew Leorio in, turning his mind to static and his limbs to jelly. In his gut, he wanted to be afraid. He knew he should have been afraid.

Kurapika’s eyes held Leorio’s gaze for a moment, before shifting to look at his hands, splayed out on Leorio’s heaving chest. His tongue darted out to swipe across his lips as he began unbuttoning Leorio’s shirt, pushing it off his chest and down his arms. Leorio shifted to take it the rest of the way off as Kurapika leaned down to kiss him again, tongue pushing easily into his mouth. Leorio moaned, wrapping his arms around Kurapika’s body, pulling him down closer to him. Kurapika let him, grinding his hips against his body as they kissed. He let his mouth wander, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses against Leorio’s neck. His tongue lapped hungrily at his skin, tasting him.

“F-fuck,” Leorio breathed, gripping Kurapika’s hips with white-knuckled hands. He felt intoxicated. He stiffened, a stuttering moan escaping him when he felt Kurapika’s teeth close gently around a bit of skin. Hot shivers ran through him, straight to the pool of heat sitting low in his belly. He felt Kurapika’s hands on him, pressing into his sides, nails pricking his skin. He dragged them down, excruciatingly slowly, leaving red marks on his skin and pulling a weak moan from his lips. Kurapika sucked demurely at his neck as he let his hands wander, finding the waist of Leorio’s pants and toying with the fabric.

Kurapika shifted, moving to hover over Leorio’s face, close enough that their noses nearly brushed. His breath huffed over his face, warmer now but chased by an almost unnatural chill. He kissed him slowly, lips brushing his with the scarcest amount of pressure before he leaned further into the kiss. Leorio’s heart stuttered like a hummingbird in his chest. He let his eyes flutter shut and he groaned drunkenly.

“You want me to touch you?” Kurapika murmured, hand slipping into Leorio’s pants.

“Yes.” It came out sounding desperate, needy.

“Like this?” His hand found the bulge of his cock, achingly hard and already dripping with precum, and he squeezed him through his boxers, kneading the heel of his palm against his flesh. Leorio tensed, gritting his teeth and groaning. In the next instant Kurapika’s hand was in his underwear, fingers toying with the head of his cock. In the back of his mind, he noticed how cool his hands felt on his blood hot member. As he touched him, wrapping his slender fingers around his length and jerking him off slowly, his flesh seemed to drink in his heat like a sponge.

“Y-yes,” Leorio choked out, breath already coming in hot, shallow pants. 

The hand on Leorio’s ribs tightened, fingers arching to press the points of his nails into his flesh. Leorio moaned softly.

“Ask me nicely,” Kurapika purred, slowing the stroking of his hand to a lazy, absentminded pace.

“P-please.”

Kurapika hummed in pleasure, pressing a slow kiss to Leorio’s mouth as he began to stroke him faster, rolling his hips against his body in time with his hand. Leorio moaned pathetically into his mouth, hips bucking up into his hand the closer he got. Minutes later, Kurapika shifted, lips barely ghosting the shell of his ear. His hand slowed, tugging languidly at his cock.

“Do you want to fuck me? Or do you want me to make you cum just like this?”

Leorio sputtered, fighting through the fog of pleasure in his mind to form a coherent sentence. Kurapika waited, breath huffing slowly over Leorio’s ear.

“Tell me what you want,” Kurapika murmured.

“I want to touch you,” Leorio finally choked out, lips dry and trembling as he spoke.

Kurapika’s eyebrows raised despite himself. But he relented obediently, slipping his hand from Leorio’s pants and sitting back. Leorio surged upwards immediately, pressing his mouth to Kurapika’s and wrapping his arms around him. Kurapika hummed, looping a hand around his neck to pet at his hair. Leorio’s hands found Kurapika’s sides and roamed as they kissed, sliding up his body until he found the warm shapes of his breasts. He found himself shivering as Leorio pressed his hands inside his shirt to cup them, rock hard nipples pressed against his warm palms. As his shirt slipped off his other shoulder Leorio moved to kiss at the newly exposed skin, lips leaving tingling marks along the sensitive curve of his neck. Kurapika bit his lip, grinding down against Leorio.

“Fuck…” he breathed when Leorio started to squeeze and massage his breasts. His mouth pressed harder against his neck, pressing sloppy, excited kisses to his skin as his fingers found the hard nubs of his nipples. Kurapika twitched, tipping his head back and whining as Leorio rolled and pinched them between his fingers. He felt the other man’s hand roam down his body again, smoothing over his ribs and his waist, settling at the sharp shape of his hip bone. Gently, almost shyly, his fingers found the clasp of his pants. At his neck, his mouth stilled, hot breath huffing from his nose as he pushed his hand into his pants. He could feel the surprise jolt through Leorio’s body when he felt the coarse hair at his crotch instead of the fabric of underwear. Kurapika couldn’t help but grin to himself, humming in Leorio’s ear as he pressed two fingers between his lips, feeling the hot slick pouring out of him. Kurapika rolled his hips into his hand, driving his fingers closer to his hole and pressing his rock hard clit against Leorio’s palm. Leorio’s breath stammered in his throat and he moaned, forehead pressed into the curve of his neck.

“What about now?” Kurapika murmured.

Leorio nodded tightly.

“Ask me.”

“ _Please_.” There was a desperate edge to his own voice that surprised him. Had he been in his right mind, he would have blushed at how helpless he sounded.

“Good boy.” Leorio watched with wide eyes as he climbed from his lap, standing gracefully as he peeled off his pants. Leorio fumbled to do the same, the fog in his mind swooning at the way Kurapika had cooed the praise at him, voice as smooth as a hand trailing through water.

When Kurapika looked back at him, shirt unbuttoned the rest of the way, smooth strong legs bare, his eyes had darkened to the color of blood from a vein, spilt red wine. There was a raw, animalistic hunger in his gaze as he climbed back into his lap. A single hand on his chest laid Leorio back on the bed, eyes watching in wide infatuation as Kurapika held Leorio’s cock gently, lining it up with his cunt. He watched Leorio as he sank slowly down to the base, watched his pleasure drunken eyelids flutter as he took all of his length. Kurapika closed his own eyes, letting out a soft, curling sigh at the feeling of Leorio buried within him. He had hit the jackpot with him, it seemed; his length allowed the head of his cock to press deep inside of him, rubbing against the spot he knew made his thighs shake, and his girth stretched him just enough to send warm shivers through his limbs.

Leorio’s hands found Kurapika’s hips instantly, gripping tightly enough to dent the flesh. As he began to move, rolling his hips slowly, Leorio moaned. Kurapika leaned both hands onto Leorio’s chest, fingers grabbing at his skin, feeling the dull, frantic galloping of his heart as he rode him, snapping his hips back and then rolling them forward in an experienced, almost graceful motion. Kurapika smiled, his breath coming in hot little pants as he chased his pleasure, fucking himself harder on his cock, picking himself up and dropping back down enough to jolt the bed’s frame. He let his head hang forward, hair framing his face in curtains, ruby earring swinging wildly from his ear. He drug his nails down Leorio’s chest, drawing new lines of angry skin and teasing a whimpering moan from his lips. Kurapika leaned forward, hovering close enough to brush their lips as they panted hot puffs of air into each other’s mouths. Kurapika’s hand grabbed his jaw firmly, nails digging into his skin enough to prick up sharp needles of pain.

“Good boy,” Kurapika huffed out, his voice, inexplicably, closer to a growl. He twisted his hand to the left, wrenching Leorio’s face the same direction. The strength, the dominance, the _hunger_ in the gesture drew a tight groan from Leorio’s lips. His head spun with pleasure as Kurapika began to kiss at his neck, lips damp and slick and frantic, heat pooling quickly in his gut when he ran his tongue over and over his sensitive skin. Another groan, deeper, hoarser, was pushed from Leorio when he felt the first bite of teeth, much sharper, much more intentional than anything he’d done that evening. His breath stuttered in his chest when Kurapika bit down harder, sinking his teeth deeper into his flesh, drawing up rich, thick, boiling blood that ran down Leorio’s neck and soaked into the fabric beneath him. Leorio was frozen, hot electricity running through every cell, his mind churning wildly and sluggishly in the same instant, hands shivering on Kurapika’s hips. His face went numb with cold pinpricks and his lip trembled when Kurapika sealed his lips against his neck and began to suck on the wound, his own pleasured hums sending vibrations through his skull. All the while, his hips were still moving, grinding and rocking steadily on his cock. Leorio felt his eyelids flutter, mouth slack-jawed and agape, mind overloaded with sensation and fear and confusion and pleasure all in the same endless instant.

Kurapika’s mouth relaxed after several moments. His hand softened on his jaw and he exhaled gently, red hot breath skating across his cheek. His tongue lapped at the wound one last time, saliva stinging the raw flesh. As he sat back, Leorio saw blood— _his_ blood; the same color as his eyes—on Kurapika’s alabaster skin and staining the collar of his shirt. He raised a hand to swipe across his chin. As he drank, it had run from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, down the curve of his neck, a few stray drops drawing thin red rivers down the slope of his chest. Leorio watched him lick the scarlet from his lips and run his tongue over his teeth. As he did, Leorio caught a glimpse of a single elongated canine, stained pink.

Kurapika looked at him with blazing eyes, head cocked gently to the side as he rolled his hips on his cock. Something in Leorio stirred violently to life, vitality rushing noisily through his limbs, down his spine, and he surged upwards, wrapping his arms around Kurapika and kissing him desperately. Kurapika kissed him back, hands tangling in his hair, lips made metallic by his blood. Leorio jerked his hips up in time with Kurapika’s movements, fucking into him as best he could as they clung to each other. Kurapika shivered as he thrust deeper into him, mouth twisting against Leorio’s as he bit back a moan. When he felt Leorio leaning his weight into him, he let him lay him back. As he did, Leorio moved to brace his arms on either side of Kurapika, conscientious enough in his haze to think not to crush him. Kurapika was only able to revel in the tenderness of the action for a moment before Leorio’s forehead was pressed into his shoulder and he was fucking him, hard and fast and desperate enough to rock the bed and send an electric jolt through his body with each thrust, the fruit of the frustration Kurapika knew he had been building in him all evening long. His breath came in tight, guttural pants, so hot against Kurapika’s skin they seemed to burn.

Kurapika clung to Leorio with trembling arms, eyes screwed shut and moans spilling from his open mouth. He clawed at his back, nails grappling at his skin first for purchase and then as a distraction from the near-overwhelming feeling of Leorio stretching him, filling him, satisfying an itch that hadn’t been reached in decades. As Kurapika got closer and closer, the heat in his belly roaring into a blaze, his eyebrows knitted together on his forehead. His noises tightened as tension wrenched through his body in preparation for the force of his orgasm. Leorio was hot and heavy above him, enough so to leech the cold from the depths of Kurapika’s pale flesh. He could smell the brine of the sweat beading on his brow, the life in his breath. At his neck, the force of his movements had jostled the clots; a thin stream of bright ruby rolled down his skin. A single drop of blood fell and soaked into the fabric of the sheets.

Kurapika came with a tight shout, every limb tensing as his orgasm tore through him, turning his mind to static and his eyes to pools of scarlet. His hands clutched at Leorio, fingernails digging into his skin enough to draw up bubbles of bright red blood. Leorio groaned as Kurapika tightened around his cock. The pleasure, the sharp sparks of pain from his nails, the lingering shock of the bite, the lust he still felt burning in his gut, it all mixed and swelled into a wave and washed every thought from his mind. A long, wavering sigh was pushed from Leorio’s lungs. He shuddered deeply as he came, legs buckling as he stilled inside him. His body seemed to fall limp as he rolled over, every ounce of energy sapped from him, fatigue replacing the pulsating pleasure of his orgasm. He felt Kurapika shift beside him. He saw him sit up out of the corner of his eye. Leorio fought to keep his eyes open, eyelids suddenly leaden. He swallowed thickly, working up the energy to say something, anything to him.

Kurapika shifted silently, leaning over Leorio and pressing a single hand to his chest. Even through the groggy fluttering of his eyelids, he could see the way Leorio looked at him, as if memorizing every one of his features. He liked him, he thought. He really did.

“Sleep.” Kurapika kissed him gently, lips brushing his with the lightest touch, moving slowly against his mouth. Beneath his hand, he felt Leorio’s erratic heartbeat slow as his eyes fell shut.

When Leorio awoke, sunlight stung his eyes. He squinted, lifting a hand to shield them. When his arm bumped against the sagging beige roof of his car’s interior, he froze. He sprang forward suddenly, just barely bracing his arms against the dashboard in time as his chest rushed to meet it. He was curled in the driver’s seat, as if he had fallen asleep there. His briefcase was laid on the passenger seat, tie neatly folded on top, just how he’d left it the night before. He was dressed in the same clothes he had worn to the conference, the same clothes his car had broken down in. They were dry, down to the very soles of his shoes. Leorio’s eyebrows knit together. He hadn’t slept in the car. It had started raining and he’d given up and walked, and found the castle and the man, and he had let him stay there for the night, and—

Leorio’s cheeks reddened as he recalled the night before. What they had done, the way they had pounced on each other like starved beasts, the passion they had shared. It was just as vivid in his mind as the thunderstorm. But then, how had he ended up back in his car? He blinked. That man, Kurapika, there had been something about him. Where he lived, what were the odds of stumbling upon a castle like that (and an inhabited one that hadn’t been preserved as a historical site, at that) this deep in the woods? And the way he was dressed; he looked straight out of the 1800s. Not to mention the bite, his strength, the chill to his skin as Leorio held him, the flash of a fang Leorio had seen. It was textbook, really. And undeniably impossible. 

 _A dream?_ Leorio felt foolish now. Of course it had been a dream. He’d had vivid, nonsensical dreams all his life, especially when he was stressed out. This was surely no different. It was late; he must have been so delirious with fatigue and frustration that he barely noticed when he climbed back in and fell asleep.

Leorio sighed, running his hands through his stiff hair. He threaded his fingers together on the back of his head, smoothing his hands down the back of his neck. The heel of his palm pressed against the curve where his shoulder met his neck, beneath his jaw. He started, snatching his hands down at the dull stab of pain. His heart churned in his chest. He brought his hand to his neck once more, hovering over the bruised wound to feel the heat radiating off the flesh. He cut his eyes to the rearview mirror, taking in the mottled wine colored mark staining his neck, half hidden by the collar of his shirt. It was undeniably tender, and undeniably real. A chill ran through him then, one of fear, of confusion. And relief.


End file.
